Ahead of his Time by Adrian Cousins (read novels website .TXT) 📗

Miss Colman, I’m fine, thank you,” I delivered in a slightly higher tone than usual.

“Very well, but you must look after yourself. Mr Clark relies heavily on you to keep the school running smoothly. Hot lemon and honey, with a dash of Navy Rum is what you need.”

I walked into Roy’s office, then turned and closed the door, leaving Miss Colman standing outside presumably with her face inches from the heavy oak door as it closed.

“Ah, Jason, good. Thank you for joining us. Gentlemen, you’ll remember my Deputy Head?” Roy offered. He seemed to be quite cheerful, which was surprising, based on the information Miss Colman had supplied. His introduction this time had promoted me from Acting to actual Deputy Head. Not sure I remember accepting the position.

“Yes, of course,” said DI Litchfield. Both officers were seated in front of Roy’s desk. They leant forward, and we exchanged handshakes. DI Roberts briefly inspected the palm of his hand after we shook, presumably wondering why I had a sweaty palm as it was still cold and both men hadn’t removed their overcoats. DI Litchfield turned and addressed me as I stood to their left with one hand on the wood panelling for support.

Mr Apsley, we were just informing Mr Clark that we need to retain the typewriter which we removed last week and secure it into evidence.”

“Oh.”

We don’t believe it has any bearing on the case at this stage, but the procedure is to hold it in case it’s required at a later time. I know that will be inconvenient, but I’m sure you’ll understand.”

I glanced at Roy, who seemed to be relaxed; I presumed because the officers indicated there would be no further investigation, thus not affecting the school’s reputation.

“Yes, I understand. I must say it’s somewhat intriguing. What’s the case regarding? It does seem very strange that one of our students has typed a letter about an investigation in … sorry where did you say it was?” I thought it would be good to give the impression I’d forgotten what force DI Litchfield had come from.

“West Yorkshire, sir. I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say, but we do at this stage believe the letter to be a hoax and not relevant.”

“Right. Have you investigated what the letter said then?”

DI Litchfield raised his right hand to scratch the end of his nose and gave me what I can only describe as a Paddington stare before replying. “I’m sorry, sir, as I said, we’re not at liberty to say.”

“No, of course.” I pursed my lips and nodded, now a bit flummoxed on what to say next.

Both officers stood and offered their hand to Roy and me. Although DI Roberts sneered a little before shaking my hand, probably concerned he would again be left with deposits of my sweat.

“Thank you, gentleman,” said Roy.

“Yes, thank you very much,” I added, slightly louder than necessary. I wanted to give Miss Colman the heads-up the door was about to open, thus saving her from falling flat on the floor. I succeeded as she’d managed to move a few feet away, giving me a smile as a non-verbal thank you for my warning.

Although Miss Colman started most conversations with, “As you know, I’m not one to gossip”, we both knew she was. That gossiping I’d found invaluable on a number of occasions, so I was pleased to keep my line of intelligence gathering open and secure. I was sure that MI6 had missed a trick in not employing Miss Colman and Mr Nears over the years – if they had, the Cold War might have ended sooner.

I was obviously pleased the investigation into the letter I’d sent had stalled, or as DI Litchfield had said, was a hoax. However, that also meant any inquiry into Peter Sutcliffe wasn’t going to happen. As with the investigation in my old timeline, it seemed this investigation was going the same way – nowhere.

25

Annual Appraisal

Martin somehow miraculously made it through the day without causing any calamities following his gawping at his mother episode at the start of the day. He said he’d worked through Clive’s list but was amazed no power tools were available, and he had to fix up a coat hook in the staff room with a hand drill. He seemed relieved that I owned a power drill, albeit very archaic, although brand new.

I reminded him that Clive came from the era when those were not available. I advised him to ask Miss Colman for twenty quid from petty cash so he could nip into Great-Mills DIY store and purchase one. I then spent the rest of the journey explaining the concept of petty cash and that it wasn’t the content of wallets owned by small-minded people. Also, not to expect the choice of drills to be too extensive and not to ask for a cordless one. Once I had explained all that, he then asked what Great Mills was. He was exhausting.

As with most evenings after school, it was a quick nip into the pub for a swift pint with George before going home. A home that since yesterday had started to restore itself back to my sanctuary. Tonight, I took my Martin-shaped hand grenade along to the pub, although he seemed to have reinserted the pin since this morning. I knew the discussion I was planning to have tonight could well pull that pin right out again. But it was the right thing to do as I was determined to stop Sarah from suffering at the hands of a rapist ten years in the future.

Holed-up in our usual seats, George informed us he’d completed some research on articles printed over the last year. He’d engaged the support of a young lad in the archive department and was quite excited talking through the microfiche system. George thought it was amazing that so much information could be stored in such a small space. This wasn’t the time to explain the memory capacity of a